The choicest portion of this province lies within the open angle formed by the divergence of four large rivers—viz. “the Yangtse, taking its course due north, till, bending to the east, it makes its final exit into the Chinese Sea at Shanghai; the Mekong, pursuing a tortuous course south to the China Sea near Saigon; the Si-Kiang, originating near the capital of the province, flows due east to Canton; while a fourth, the Songkoi, or ‘Red River,’ goes south-east to Hanoi and the Gulf of Tonquin. A central position amidst such mighty waterways and with so wide a circumference of outside communication indicates the great importance of the district either for administration or trade—a fact early appreciated by the sagacity of the Chinese, who as far back as the third century established fortified colonies among the then savage and recalcitrant tribes of Yunnan. For export Yunnan has three capital products to offer—opium, tea and metals. The opium-yielding poppy grows almost everywhere. The celebrated tea of the south-east is in great request, being considered by the Chinese themselves superior to all other qualities of tea throughout the empire. Its cultivation offers no difficulties, the high price it commands outside of the region being solely due to the costliness of transport. But it is the metal-trade which will in all probability be the prominent feature of commerce. The great tin-mines have supplied the whole of China from time immemorial; copper abounds throughout the province; lead, gold, silver, iron, and last, but not least, coal, make up the list. Curiously enough, the vast Chinese empire includes no other truly metalliferous province except the bordering region of Western Ssu-ch’nan, geologically, though not administratively, a part of Yunnan; nothing but the inaccessibility, and too-often disturbed and lawless condition, of the country has thus far hindered its mines from becoming sources of really incalculable wealth to the province, to the Chinese empire at large, and, by participation, to foreign commerce.”
The affluent circumstances of the peasantry in the southern districts are in marked contrast with those of the north. The women do not compress their feet. Many of the men bear the Muslim’s physique and features. Indeed, before the merciless massacre of the Panthays, Mohammedans formed the majority of the population. But the last quarrel, begun by miners in 1855, only ended in 1874 by wellnigh the extermination of the entire Muslim community. Mounted expresses were despatched to seventy-two districts with instructions to the principal mandarins from the governor of the province. Families were surprised and butchered by night, their homes sacked and mosques burned. A cry of horror ran from village to village. The Mohammedans rushed to arms, collecting in vast numbers, and upward of a million Chinese were killed in revenge. In the end the Panthays were crushed out, but more than one-fourth of the inhabitants of Yunnan had perished or emigrated. Plague and famine followed the great rebellion and fearfully devastated the whole region, which is only now slowly recovering its former prosperity.
The aboriginal inhabitants of Yunnan are apparently of the same stock as the Laos, just across the border. The variety of their clans and picturesque costumes recalls the wild Highlanders of Scotland.
The chief lack of Yunnan is good roads. Going east or west, the highways run up the ridge, over the saddle or watershed, and dip down into another valley, and this up-and-down process must be repeated from town to town; ravines must be crossed, torrents must be bridged, and often the narrow causeway lies along the side of a precipice or the ascent may be some hundred feet up the face of a mountain. Merchandise crossing the Laos frontier must be carried long distances at an enormous cost. Thus the celebrated so-called Puekr tea of North-eastern Laos, just a little south of the Yunnan border, while freely used by the peasantry of that province, is too expensive by the time it reaches the nearest Chinese port to export to Russia or Europe. Yet the amount of goods and produce that move to and fro viâ Szmao, the last Chinese administration town, to Laos, and viâ Cheung Mai to Burmah, is surprising,—thus affording the best possible guarantee for an increased amount to follow were only communication facilitated. Railroad communication for an overland route is warmly advocated. “From Yunnan,” as Baron Richthoren puts it, “the elongated ridges of the Indo-Chinese peninsula (the land of the Burmese, Malays, Siamese, Laos and Cochin-Chinese) stretch southward as fingers from the palms of a hand.”
The configuration of the peninsula is easily remembered as separated by longitudinal belts of hills, spurs from the northern ranges, into principal basins, or funnels, for the rich drainage of the surrounding highlands, viâ Burmah, or the basin of the Irawaddy; the valley of the Menam and that of the Cambodia or Mekong River; and Tonquin, connected by a narrow coast-strip with the French delta.
The fluvial system of each of these great valleys is dominated by one important river, whose downward course is more or less impeded by cataracts, until the upper plateaux gradually subside into undulating tracts, which increase in width and levelness as they approach the several deltas. Throughout Indo-China these waterways, with their intersecting streams and canals, are the main highways of population, commerce and travel. Native villages often consist of one long water-street running through a perfect jungle of palms and other tropical trees, the little bamboo huts and the wats nearly hidden in the foliage. Boats are used instead of carts, carriages or cars. In the upland districts buffaloes and elephants are used; but, with the exception of the pack-peddlers and caravans at certain seasons, the traveler off the waterways would rarely meet any trace of human life.
I. THE FIRST BASIN—BURMAH.
The westernmost basin embraces the kingdom of Ava, ruled by a most cruel native autocrat, and the three British provinces of Lower Burmah, governed by a chief commissioner residing at Rangoon and subject to the viceroy of India at Calcutta.
What is known of Burmah is chiefly embraced in the valley of the Irawaddy. This large stream, rising in Thibet, flows almost due south some twelve hundred miles, receiving tributaries east and west, and communicating by numerous branches with the Salween, running parallel on the east, but almost useless for travel, owing to its rapids.